La Noche Desbarata mis Sombras

They open the doors and lean out: their whistles travel the rails across the town. The dogs get up. The children put out their cigarettes. They have arrived, and now, all is still.

Salomé reviews decades of family videos to understand her mother's sadness. In this search, she uncovers a past marked by exploitation and historical violence in Colombia and Latin America. By using artificial intelligence to imagine a less terrible world, she discovers that it is easier for us to conceive the end of the world than the end of capitalism.

The 𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘴 evidence the presence of the person filming, revealing their movement and their center; they are the record of a hesitation seeking balance, testimony to the measurement of time. In that sustained gaze that pursues the precision of a gesture, meanings and bewilderment suddenly unfold. Filming, then, is the construction of a logic permeated by speculation, which in turn fertilizes it.

Authorities have prohibited access to a forest on the outskirts of the city. Strange vegetation has infested the area, and those who have been questioned report sightings of rare species, human-sized birds, or figures that appear and disappear. Despite the restrictions, several people decide to visit the place. Once there, they coexist and play without fear of the warnings. Little by little, reality begins to distort, blending with their memories, dreams, and fantasies.

Banned languages, books telling stories of alien children, and strange sculptures that resemble spaceships. The history of the suppression of the Basque language during Franco’s dictatorship opens the door to the invisible.

'You made me see the sky' – a nice title inspired by a song by Shakira – is a mutant film that keeps changing, and it seems to be influenced by Donna Haraway’s thought. It encourages us to reconnect with the buried chthonian powers, and to merge with the trees and with each other.